


Always there

by TealAlternian



Series: Trials, Pain, and Healing from the Past: A Vast Error Human AU [3]
Category: Homestuck, Vast Error
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Canon Non-Binary Character, Crying, Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Going Nonverbal, Hurt/Comfort, I’m not sure what tag to use exactly but Murrit gets really overwhelmed by everything, Laivan is determined to get Murrit to take care of himself, Mental Illness, Murrit and Dismas are red/black vacillating, Murrit and Laivan are moirails, Nonbinary Character, Other, Panic Attacks, Trans Character, brief implications of suicidal thoughts, mild self hatred, mutual care, mutual comfort, neurodivergent character, nonsexual showering together, relationship troubles, self neglect, talks about death, transmasc character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealAlternian/pseuds/TealAlternian
Summary: Laivan is always there for Murrit, even during particularly hard times.  They’re one of the few constants in his life, a shoulder to lean on, or even cry on, when things get rough, or when life just gets to be too much.  They’re someone he can always rely on, both for support, and for the affection he near constantly craves.Murrit tries to be there for Laivan too.  He’s not always the greatest at showing it; emotions just aren’t his thing, and never really have been.  But still, whether it’s reassuring them when their own thoughts get to be too hard to block out, or just giving them a bit of attention to make them smile, he tries.(Takes place in year 3, month 12 of the main timeline)
Relationships: Murrit Turkin/Laivan Ferroo, mentioned Dismas Mersiv/Murrit Turkin
Series: Trials, Pain, and Healing from the Past: A Vast Error Human AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924453
Kudos: 21





	1. Visiting and crying

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for establishment and clarity:
> 
> Murrit is canonically agender (He/She/They), and I headcanon Laivan as masc aligned nonbinary (He/They), so for the sake of clarity, I’ll primarily be referring to Murrit using He/Him pronouns and to Laivan using They/Them pronouns.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murrit has a breakdown. Laivan comes over to help him out.

His name is Murrit Turkin, and his entire life is fucking ending. And it’s his fault. All his fucking fault.

He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did. Shouldn’t have said that to Dismas, shouldn’t have gotten mad at him for getting upset. Shouldn’t have lashed out because he was scared and doesn’t know how to deal with that.

But now it’s too late. He fucked up, he tried to apologize in the worst fucking way possible, and now his matesprit, the person who he’s been through hell and back with, won’t fucking talk to him, and probably never will again.

And now? Now he’s basically fucking dying.

There’s a horrible, slowly increasing tightness in his chest from choking back sobs, hands shaking, vision blurring with tears far too fast for his comfort.

He takes a shallow, shaky breath, trying to calm down. It’s going to be okay, nothing is wrong, this is only temporary and-

Nope, absolutely not helping, this isn’t helping at fucking all and he’s sobbing, face buried in a pillow and trying not to choke on his own shitty attempts at breathing evenly. Nothing is okay and it never will be ever again. Nothing _can _be okay without Dismas, the thought of being without him forever is both emotionally and physically painful. Existence is unimaginable without his matesprit, his partner both in crime and in life, the first person he ever felt safe opening up to. And now he’s probably gone forever.__

__His phone buzzes a few times, spaced out over a good 15 minutes, but it goes ignored; he’s not up to even the menial task of checking messages right now. Not to mention that he couldn’t handle if it was Dismas messaging him to just fuck off forever; he’s not sure what he’d do really, but it probably wouldn’t be good. Crying is the only thing that really seems appealing right now. For the next half hour._ _

__Eventually, he decides checking messages might actually be a good idea; what if it’s Dismas wanting to make up? He blindly searches for his phone, grabbing it and shifting onto his side, removing his face from the pillow. He turns it on, checking his messages, and… Oh, it’s Laivan._ _

__[windlessArtificer (to unclaspedKahuna)]_ _

__WA: Hey  
WA: I heard about what happened  
WA: I know you’re probably hurting a lot right now, but  
WA: Are you okay?  
WA: Hello-?  
WA: It’s been like ten minutes so- I’m kinda worried  
WA: Murrit?  
WA: I’m coming over okay?  
WA: I’ll see you when I get there_ _

__Oh fuck dammit. There is absolutely no stopping Laivan once they get set to stuff like this. They’re a great moirail, they really are, but right now he really doesn’t want to have to face them, not when he’s feeling like this. Unfortunately for him, Laivan has a key to his front door, a drivers license, and a lot of concern for him. And, from the distant but distinct sound of things, is literally opening his front door right now. Shit. Shit shit shit shit._ _

__After a minute or so, he can hear footsteps approaching his bedroom door, slow but steady. He curls up a bit, wishing he could just hide from reality right now. But that’s impossible and now his door is getting opened and Laivan is probably looking in at him already._ _

__“Murrit, hey, are you okay…?” Their voice is soft and concerned in the most painfully genuine, heart twisting way, briefly distracting him from the fact that they’re coming over. He’s quickly snapped back to reality, jolting in surprise when Laivan places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you awake or…?”_ _

__“... Jus’ go away Laivan, ’m fine…” he replies after a moment. The tiredness in his voice is almost tangible, slow and shaky and almost hesitant. Laivan does not in fact go away, instead moving their hand away for a moment before lying down behind him, just enough distance between the two to avoid any more physical contact._ _

__Nothing is said for a few moments, an uncomfortable silence setting over the two. Surprisingly, Murrit is the first to speak again. “... Why haven’t you left too yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question, full of an exhausted sort of surety in this happening. “I probably just hurt you too.”_ _

__There’s that tightness in his chest again. “A-And ya don’t, don’t deserve that, y’ d-deserve better, not some fucker like me, not me, not me not me not-“ He doesn’t finish that sentence, round two of sobbing starting back up with no way to hide it._ _

__Laivan scoots closer to him on the bed, wrapping their arm around his torso, forehead pressed against the nape of his neck. “Hey, no. I’m not leaving, okay? I promise. Okay Murrit?”_ _

__“Ya sh-should, I, I don’ deserve, a-anyone, include, includi-ing you…” Words are getting hard, emotions are hard and thinking is hard and it’s all just too much, and Laivan’s hand moving to his cheek and the soft sound of their shushing are the only things still keeping him grounded. It’s… still vaguely comforting, even in this state. Their hand gently strokes his cheek as he sobs, slow and soothing._ _

__“You do, you’re just, having a hard time. And um, we all do stuff we, regret. Mistakes happen.” He doesn’t say anything this time. Words just aren’t a thing that can happen right now, physically or mentally. Would even getting out a sound be possible currently? Probably not. But that doesn’t deter Laivan; he’s still all gentle touch and soft sounds and quiet reassurances._ _

__After a few minutes of this, Murrit squirms in Laivan’s grip, and they get the hint, backing up and giving him some space. He promptly turns over, facing them now, and pulls them into his arms without warning, chin resting on the top of their head, their arms more or less pinned against his chest._ _

__Laivan settles right into this new position, humming comfortingly. “You feeling a bit better?” He shrugs as best he can in his position, hoping the movement is noticeable considering Laivan is literally in his arms and can’t see him. He’s just too fucking drained to tell right now, thoughts too fuzzy to even identify what he’s feeling in general._ _

__“That’s okay. Do you need anything?” He shakes his head, not really wanting to do anything right now. Water would, admittedly, probably be a good idea after a lot of crying. But that can wait for now._ _

__After a few minutes of, now much more comfortable, silence, Laivan reluctantly pulls away a bit, so they can properly see Murrit. “Are you… taking care of yourself? Like, before this even.” Oh dammit. Laivan is nothing if not very persistent about this topic, asking pretty much every time they spend any significant time together. Murrit huffs and pouts at them, having absolutely no interest in doing this right now._ _

__Laivan huffs right back at him. “You _know _I have to ask. You um, don’t really do it a lot…” Their face is full of a familiar concern, and as much as Murrit hates to admit it… it’s justified. He really doesn’t take care of himself, not unless Laivan or Dismas makes him usually. Not even basic things like showering, or eating and drinking; soda and chips don’t count apparently, something Laivan insists on every time he tries to tell them otherwise.___ _

____He doesn’t respond this time, instead just pulling them back against him to avoid the situation. They sigh, but don’t do anything in protest. “Fine… I’ll just ask you after you’re up to talking again.” And there’s a bit of fondness creeping in. He should really tell Laivan how much he appreciates them more often. They’re one of the few people he can really depend on in life, one of the few people who understands him._ _ _ _

____But not yet, that’s still not an option. For now, a nap sounds nice. Crying is exhausting and so are emotions in general. And the feeling of his moirail in his arms, the warmth of another person, the reassurance of someone being right there… it’s soothing really, something to calm him down after so much stress. At least for a little while. So he closes his eyes, holds Laivan just a bit closer, and drifts off into much needed sleep._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite frankly I’m sick of this unfortunate lack of Murrit♦️Laivan and I’m here to change this. Come get your juice my fellow fandom trash.
> 
> ****************
> 
> This is very self indulgent and lowkey venting ayyyy. 😎 Please feel free to leave any comments and feedback!


	2. Waking up and talking feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murrit wakes up from a nap. Laivan talks about some feelings.

When Murrit wakes up a few hours later, it’s to a strange mix of anxiety and content. At first, he can’t quite place why, and thinks for a moment on what could be wrong. What happened, and why is he feeling off?

Oh, right. Dismas. And Laivan came over… are they still here?

He opens his eyes, and yep, he’s greeted by the sight of Laivan, now out of his arms, sitting up next to him and reading something on his phone. There’s a blanket covering their legs, and it registers in his mind that there’s a blanket covering him too. Ah, Laivan must've gotten a blanket while he was sleeping.

They must’ve just noticed he’s awake too, because they turn to look at him, smiling softly. “Hey, how’re you feeling?” they ask, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. He smiles back tiredly, hoping to seem a bit reassuring. “Shit, but less…” Talking is no longer an impossible feat it seems, so that’s a good thing at least.

“Less shit is, still better. You need anything?” Murrit sits up too now, looking over at Laivan. “Water would uh, prob’ly be good. Gimme jus’ a sec to get it though, still kinda outta it here.” Laivan turns off his phone, putting it in his pocket. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll go get, my bag. I have some water, in there.”

Murrit huffs out a laugh, silently grateful for that. “Why ya carryin’ around water, huh dog boi? Like you’re always ready t’ like, go on an adventure ‘r somethin’.” Laivan gets up out of bed now. “Never know when you’ll, need water. Be right back, okay?” They head out out of the room, going to get their backpack.

Being alone is… unpleasant, even if it’s only brief. Gives him time to think about all the bad stuff he’d rather not focus on. He takes a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes. Laivan will be back soon, it’s gonna be okay. He’s not gonna be left alone.

Fortunately for him, Laivan comes back not long after that, backpack in tow. “Hey, I’m back. You still good?” Murrit opens his eyes, relieved to have the company again. “Yeah, ’m good man. Ya got your bag huh?”

“Yeah, I got it, hold on just a minute.” They sit back down on the bed, digging through their bag a bit before pulling out a bottle of water. “Here you go.” They hand over the bottle and he takes it, twisting off the cap. “Thanks Laiv. Dunno what I’d do without ya.” He really means it too; he doesn’t know how he’d handle himself like this alone, or even in general really.

Laivan’s smile grows wider, and seemingly fonder. “No problem.” Things slip back into silence now. It’s more comfortable this time though. Instead of the usual uncomfortable, almost staticy buzzing in his skull when it’s too quiet, his thoughts are more… still almost. Just having another person’s presence there is a good distraction from thinking. Before long, Laivan ends up curled against his side, a comforting sort of weight that further keeps him grounded in the moment. He wraps his arm around them, craving more physical contact, and they sigh contently, pressing their body closer to his. It’s a nice, much needed little break from bad things.

On some level, Murrit knows that this is only temporary. That he’ll probably feel anxious and shaky and awful tomorrow, no matter how much the thought scares him. And as much as he wants to stop it, he can’t, but at least he can try to feel normal for now. Even if it’s only temporary.

Laivan shifts to lie with their head in Murrit’s lap, looking up at him. “So… Are you taking care of, yourself, or not?” They punctuate the question by reaching up and patting him right on the cheek. He sighs, looking down at them in return. Lies and fronts are so much harder with them than anyone else. “Always askin’ th’ hard questions, huh?” He moves his hand to the top of their head, tangling his fingers in their hair. Bleh, greasy; he’s gonna get on their ass about that in a bit. “Ya just saw me drinking water, ain’t gotta worry.”

“Well what about eating? Or taking a shower? You have to, do that stuff too, Murrit.” He huffs at them. “You’re one t’ talk about showering. Ya deadass _greasy _! I should be tellin’ you this same shit is what I should be doin’. Not you telling me grease boi.”__

__Another pat to the cheek, and Laivan jokingly pouting at him. “I showered, two days ago! I’ve just been too, busy since then. I’ll shower like, tomorrow.” That earns them a hair ruffle, and him an indignant huff._ _

__“Go take a shower or some’in’, I have one too ya know. I even have soap. Not the bar kind, like the shit Albion likes t’ give on ya birthday. Course it is, ‘cause it’s from her, duh.” He’s rambling now, a habit he often falls into. “She’s real nice like that. Dunno why she’s so nice ta me, but she is so I-“ He’s cut off by a third pat, and Laivan speaking. “You’re rambling, Murrit. You do that when you’re, avoiding the topic at, hand.”_ _

__They’re really not wrong, if he’s to be honest. “Yeah yeah whatever. Still, ya should go shower.” Laivan gives him a bit of a glare. “So should you. So you first.” It’s Murrit’s turn to give Laivan a pat, right on the top of their head. “Not until you do.”_ _

__Things keep going on like this for a bit, a continuous back and forth of ‘you first’s and ‘no you’s. They both quiet down after a while, and Murrit sighs. “We could just shower together ya know, ain’t like we’ve never done that before.” They’re startled by that, sitting up, almost choking on a caught breath, startling him right back. They take a moment to catch their breath, finally replying once they can breathe again. “I uh, I mean, you’re right I guess, but um…”_ _

__“Go on, I’m listenin’ to ya.” He waits with an unusual amount of patience; he doesn’t want to make them think they have to do anything that would make them uncomfortable. They settle back down, now avoiding looking up at him. “You… shouldn’t have to, um… look at my body, like that…”_ _

__Oh. So that’s it then._ _

__“Ah, dysphoria?” Laivan hesitates a moment, then nods. “Sorry for saying that shit, you really, shouldn’t have to worry, about me right now…” Murrit sighs softly, already very much worried. “Well I’m sure as hell gonna worry ‘bout you. We’re moirails Laiv, ya shouldn’ just listen to my problems all the time. It’s your turn ta talk.” No response. “C’mon, lemme worry about you. Y’ deserve it. The worry I mean, not dysphoria. You can talk to me.”_ _

__“... I just. I don’t feel, like anyone, wants to look at my body. Or should have to. Why would they when I don’t? I look like a damn girl…” They feel guilty for expressing this; they’re supposed to be doing the helping here, not the other way around. Murrit shouldn’t have to deal with this right now. It’s not fair, right?_ _

__“... I really wish I could make ya not feel like that. Shouldn’t have to feel that, all that stuff your head keeps saying. It’s not true, nothing wrong with how you look. You’re still a guy no matter what.” They do, admittedly, feel slightly better from that. Still dysphoric and pretty shitty of course, but a bit better. “... Promise you mean it? And, won’t judge the way I look, if you see me?” This conversation absolutely would not have gotten so far were it not for Laivan actually giving a shit about staying clean._ _

__“Promise. I’d never lie about that, or judge you.” They take a moment, just to think and breathe, before sitting up. “Come on, you need a shower, and I do too. Okay?” They’re already off both his lap and the bed before he replies. “You sure…? Don’t wanna make you do any shit you don’t wanna do.”_ _

__Laivan turns to him, already almost out the door, and nods. “Of course. I wouldn’t, lie to you either.” They smile reassuringly. “Promise.” Murrit gets up too now, joining Laivan by the door. “C’mon then, let’s get goin’.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t going to be NSFW so no dirty thoughts istg-
> 
> ****************
> 
> Edit 9/14: It’s 3:10 AM on a Monday and I just realized I wrote “tangling his fingers in their hand“ instead of “tangling his fingers in their hair“ I’m sobbing but I fixed that finally-


	3. Mutual care and concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murrit and Laivan take a shower together.

Getting ready to shower together is a surprisingly comfortable experience. Then again, this really isn’t the first time they’ve showered together. They’re comfortable enough with each other and with their relationship to do things like that.

Murrit quickly strips off his clothes without any fanfare. Hawaiian shirt off, shorts off, and so on, his thoughts not particularly focused on anything right now. Not a big deal to just take a shower with his moirail. Laivan, on the other hand, is slower in their actions, more hesitant almost. The dysphoria induced residual discomfort of being undressed isn’t just going to completely go away, even with reassurances. Murrit patiently waits for them, looking away; they’ve said before that it’s more comfortable for them if he does that, so of course he’s still going to respect this.

After a minute or two, Laivan still hasn’t said they’re ready, and Murrit hasn’t heard them moving around for a bit. He debates his choices for a moment, before deciding that looking back is probably the best choice. “Hey, ya good man?” he asks, turning back to them.

They turn to him too, looking and feeling a bit uncomfortable in their own skin, arms awkwardly crossed over their chest, boxers still on. “Yeah, I’m fine, just need a minute to, finish getting my clothes off…” They’re very uncomfortable at the thought, really not wanting to finish taking off their clothes.

“Ya can just leave ‘em on if ya feel better like that, you’ve got enough off t’ get clean. Or I can leave and ya can go first, I wouldn’ mind.” Laivan shakes his head. “No you, don’t have to leave, I just… Yeah, I think I’m gonna, leave them on. Sorry.”

Murrit shakes his head. “No sorries Laiv, I wanna see ya feel okay ‘bout yourself as you can. Nothin’ wrong with doing a lil more to be comfortable.” Laivan sighs in relief, grateful for that small bit of security. How is he so understanding? “Thanks Murrit.”

“No problem man. Now c’mon, ya ready?” He steps into the shower, waiting for them to join him. They follow not long after him with a smile, trying to just focus on the task at hand; makes it harder to feel bad about themself.

Murrit turns on the water, spraying himself in the eyes - and Laivan in the side of the face - with cold water. He hisses, blindly clawing at the valve to turn the water a warmer temperature, wiping at his eyes with a still slightly dry arm. Laivan laughs at him, genuinely amused, not particularly minding the spray to the face. Murrit turns to them after a moment, eyes dryer and water warmer, pouting a bit. “Can’t believe my own moirail is laughing at me, ya really wounding me here! Shaking my head hound boi, shakin’ my head.” His tone is clearly joking, making it obvious that none of this is serious.

“Well you just have to, keep shaking your head then, because I’m gonna laugh, when you do stuff like that.” He huffs at them, actually shaking his head now with a smile. “Yeah yeah whatever, now c’mon and get yourself _soapy _hound dog. I wanna wash ya fuckin’ hair after you get cleaned off.”__

__Laivan playfully swats at his shoulder, no force behind it, contact barely even made. “Never tell me to, get myself soapy, that sounds so weird,” they say, even while getting the soap as requested. “And I can wash my own, hair! I don’t need help.”_ _

__“I know you don’t, doesn’t mean I don’ wanna wash your hair anyway. I like doin’ nice shit for ya, I like making ya happy. Makes me feel good too.” It distantly occurs to him, in a part of his mind he doesn’t focus on much, that this is so much more honesty than he ever would’ve thought he’d show them. That he’s so comfortable around them now, like they’ve been moirails for years, and not seven short months. Then again, they’ve been close for a lot longer than that; they just mutually never had the balls to ask the other to be quadmates until then. Does he even deserve this? Probably not, they’ll leave eventually, just like-_ _

__“Murrit? Murrit, you’re zoning out.” He blinks, snapping out of it and turning to Laivan, not quite registering anything they said. ”Sorry, uh, what’d ya say Laiv…? Got distracted.” He hates it when that happens. Makes him feel a bit too out of control of his life for comfort._ _

__“I said you’re zoning out. I asked if you, wanted the soap, and you kind of just, stared at the wall.” They look more than a little worried. Sure they get distracted a lot too, and at this point they’re used to him kind of just, not focusing on reality. But he’s still their moirail, and the worry is unavoidable. “Oh, yeah uh, sure I want it. Just a lil outta it for a sec I guess.” Laivan hands him the bottle, worries not abated, but figuring now isn’t the time to ask._ _

__It once again slips into silence, for a good five minutes. It’s… peaceful really. Being so close to another person - there’s not that much space in the shower, just enough to have a little elbow room - is nice, adding an emotional sort of warmth to the physical warmth of the water. There’s a sort of inherent intimacy to showering together. Not necessarily red either; it can be pale, or platonic, or so on. The two of them most certainly appreciate this intimacy. It helps them feel closer, in a way that other things just don’t quite match._ _

__Laivan tries to reach for the shampoo, behind Murrit, but he snatches it before they can get ahold of it. “Hey, come on, give it to me-!” Murrit just smirks, in a teasing, played-up triumphant way, and holds it above and behind his head. “How aboooout… Nah.” Laivan makes an annoyed sound, and tries to grab it back themself. They have little success in this; Murrit is a good 6 inches taller than them, all long limbs and surprising flexibility, and jumping for it is a terrible idea in general and an even worse one in a wet shower. Before long Laivan is everything short of climbing on Murrit to try to reach it, while he wraps his free arm around their waist to try to deter them._ _

__“Come on, already, this isn’t fair, you’re like, a damn tree-!” They squirm in his grasp, grabbing at the bottle a bit more, before finally giving up with a sigh. “Fine… Let me guess, you’re still set on, washing my hair?” That earns them a hair ruffle, his hand still slightly soapy. “You bet your fuckin’ ass I am.” They give him a withering, mildly exasperated look, but sigh. “Fine, fine. You’re lucky you’re, a great moirail, you know that?”_ _

__That simple compliment, admittedly, makes Murrit inordinately happy; he never really got a lot of praise for most of his life, so now he soaks it up like a sponge. “Yeah, I know that. I really, really do. And you’re a great moirail too Laiv.”_ _

__Laivan relaxes against his chest, closing their eyes. “Good. I’m glad I’m, doing good at this. Being moirails. Wasn’t sure I’d do, okay even.”_ _

__For a moment, Laivan thinks their hair is just being messed with again, but nope, that’s shampoo. They’re a little caught off guard by the lack of warning, but don’t mind. Getting their hair washed feels… nice, if they’re being honest. Calming. A nice way to take their thoughts off of their insecurities and worries._ _

__“You’re doin’ great, couldn’t imagine a better moirail.” Words like that still feel a bit foreign to him, yet so natural at the same time. Pale tinged compliments come so easy when it’s like this, with Laivan leaning forward against him, head resting on his chest, humming in content. It makes him feel like he’s actually doing something _right _for once. It’s wonderful really.___ _

____The next few minutes are fairly quiet, save for the sound of Laivan humming, then idle chatter after Laivan insists he washes his own hair too before they get out. And how could he say no to them on that, after they put up with his own insistence? He can’t help but cooperate for once. It’s only fair._ _ _ _

____The water, unfortunately, starts to run cold after a while. As nice as this all has been, it’s time to get out now. Murrit turns off the water, and Laivan gets out of the shower. They cringe inwardly, the feeling of soaked fabric sticking to their thighs suddenly becoming very apparent. The physical discomfort of cold, wet clothes wins out over the mental discomfort of dysphoria, and they strip off their boxers, haphazardly tossing them onto the already wet tile._ _ _ _

____“Dog boi in the nude, what crimes will he commit?” They’re, for once, a bit taken aback by the joke, but they just roll their eyes. “No crimes, why would I, do that, huh?” He scoffs at them. “Don’ act like you’re not gonna steal my clothes after ya dry off.” He grabs a towel, and drops it on their head, unfolded, with a laugh._ _ _ _

____“Hey, don’t do that-!” They’re already drying off their hair as they say this, mostly used to his brand of teasing and jokes. Their hair sticks to the back of their neck as they dry it, almost around shoulder level in the very back; they make a note to cut it soon._ _ _ _

____“I do what I want when I want, and I wanna do that.” He grabs his shirt off the sink where it was thrown, and just… uses it to dry off. Questionable, but Laivan has the towel, so somewhat justified. Especially since he hates putting on clothes while wet. It feels repulsive and it should be illegal, in his opinion._ _ _ _

____Laivan finishes drying their hair, and clumsily hangs the towel back up. The rest of them can stay wet, they don’t particularly mind. They shoot an ever so slightly judgmental look at Murrit. “That’s kind of gross, drying yourself off with your, dirty shirt.” He scoffs, dropping his shirt in a puddle on the floor. That’s for future Murrit to deal with now. “Hey, better than your dirty shirt.”_ _ _ _

____“Not that much, I don’t think. But whatever I, guess.” They’re fully aware that convincing Murrit not to do that would be like convincing a clock not to tick. “Let’s get dressed, okay? I’ll make you some food, after that.”_ _ _ _

____“Ya don’t need t’ do that, I ain’t hungry.” Not really a complete lie. He doesn’t often feel hunger, and even when he does, it often takes him a while to notice. Laivan does not take this as an acceptable answer. “When did you last, eat then?”_ _ _ _

____He takes a moment to think about that. When did he last remember to eat exactly? Hell, when did he even last buy groceries? “Uh… Yesterday morning…?” Oops. Definitely longer than it should be. How could he lose track for that long?_ _ _ _

____Laivan is, understandably, a bit horrified. “That’s it, I’m gonna make you some, food.” They make a face for a moment. “… Do you even have, anything other than, like, ramen.” That’s more of a statement than a question. They’re already almost certain that he doesn’t._ _ _ _

____“I uh… no.” He feels a bit embarrassed by this. Shame maybe? Probably. He’s been telling people that he’s really been trying to take care of himself for… at least three weeks now. Even his therapist. But it’s a complete lie and he knows it. And now so does Laivan. The thought of them possibly yelling at him is both uncomfortable, and… scary, admittedly._ _ _ _

____Laivan does not yell at him, doesn’t even sigh. Instead, they open the bathroom door, and gently grab his wrist. “Come on, I’ll order takeout then. Sound good?” The concern in their voice is blatantly obvious. Murrit sighs, but smiles tiredly. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” Laivan smiles back, tugs his arm, and leads him out of the room._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are a bit hard to write, but I sure am having fun trying.


	4. Disagreements and resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murrit and Laivan have an important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized I never established this, but at this point in the AU, Murrit is 20 and Laivan is 19.
> 
> Also, a disclaimer. I know I added it to the tags, but just to make sure, be warned that this chapter has brief implications of suicidal thoughts, and generally touches a bit on Murrit’s mental health a little bit, so please read with caution.

As much as Laivan would like to get right to things, and order food, first things first; getting dressed. Laivan heads back to the bedroom, Murrit in tow right behind them.

Just as Murrit said, Laivan steals some of his clothes, a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. It’s not the first time they’ve done that, nor will it be the last. They by no means fit, of course - Murrit wears at least a solid size or two larger - but that won’t stop them from doing so anyway.

Murrit finds it endearing really, his quadmate casually wearing his clothes like that. And the fact they’ve reached this level of comfort with each other, for this to feel like a normal thing, is… reassuring in a way. Reassuring that they really will stick around.

It dawns on him that he should probably stop zoning out and staring at his moirail dressing, which is probably weird as fuck in the first place, and get dressed too. He roots through his drawers a bit, grabs a shirt and a pair of boxers - fuck it, no more pants today - and gets dressed too.

By the time he’s done, and looks back over at Laivan, they’re already gone. Must’ve gone into the other room, something he confirms when he sees the bedroom door is now left open. He heads out of the bedroom, and oddly enough, they’re not there. Hmm. Well that gets his anxiety going a bit.

He sits down on the couch, and pulls his knees up to his chest. Logically, he knows his anxiety is pointless. They’re probably in the bathroom or something, that’s all. But the lingering anxiety from the recent argument, along with a lifetime of abandonment issues, makes it more or less unavoidable.

After a minute or two, Laivan comes back, scrolling through something on their phone. Oh, right, they left it in the bathroom. They plop down next to Murrit on the couch, only briefly glancing up from their phone.

Murrit moves his legs back away from his chest and leans to the side, curiously looking over at what they’re doing, almost resting his head on their shoulder. Looks like they’re ordering food, nice. They, of course, notice him looking over, and look right back at him. “Hey. Do you need something?” He shrugs a bit, accidentally bumping them with his shoulder. “Nah. Just bored as fuck, wanna know what ya up to.”

“Just ordering food. You like pizza, right? No toppings?” Murrit’s eyes light up a bit, and he leans back away so he can nod enthusiastically. They know him so well, even the little things like that. Then again, they have known each other for… ten years now. Wow. “Fuck yeah I do. Man I ain’t had that shit in like, _months _. Can’t even remember when last.”__

__“Five months ago. You ate until you felt sick, then made me cuddle you on, my couch.” Murrit sighs overdramatically, for a solid five seconds. “Can’t believe you had ta remind me, can’t believe it! And I didn’t make ya cuddle me, I just looked hella sad until ya did. Big difference.”_ _

__Laivan scoffs. “You looked like you were about, to cry. I think you did, actually. While I was cuddling you.” What’s the fun of having a moirail anyway if they can’t tease him back a bit? None of this is mean spirited, of course. Just poking fun a little._ _

__Murrit is, admittedly, a bit hurt by them bringing up what he perceives as a moment of weakness. And kind of worried now. Do they hold that against him? Do they resent him for it? No, that’s stupid, and not even worth mentioning either. Time to hide his feelings again._ _

__“Yeah yeah, whatever, same thing. Still didn’ make ya.” He punctuates this by flopping back against the couch, as nonchalant as possible. He’s glad to note that none of his anxiety slipped itself into his voice. Years of a near constant front really do pay off._ _

__Laivan shrugs. “True I guess.” They lean against him, head against his shoulder. “Point stands though. I cuddled you on my couch. Would’ve been really nice, if you were feeling better.” Oh. Maybe there isn’t any resentment._ _

__Murrit chuckles, wrapping his arm around their shoulder. “Guess we gotta make up for missed opportunities and be cuddle sluts more, huh?” Laivan hums a bit, as if deep in thought. “Sounds like a plan to me.” As if taking that as a cue, Murrit smirks, pulls them into his lap, and rests his chin on the top of their head. That’s at least the second time he’s caught them off guard today. A good kind of off guard though; affection is always a welcome surprise to both of them. “Good time t’ start on the plan as any, right?”_ _

__Laivan relaxes against him with a soft sigh and set aside their phone, now finished with their task. “The best time to start.” That finally eases his worries for now, and he relaxes too. Back to feeling calm for now… even if having a still damp person in his lap is kind of uncomfortable. He makes a conscious effort not to squirm from the feeling. “Fuck yeah it is. Buuuut, now I got a question for ya.”_ _

__“Hmm? What is it?” They almost look up at him, before realizing that probably wouldn’t work too well in their current position. It probably wouldn’t be too comfortable either, for them or for him._ _

__“When do we eat, ‘m hungry as fuck man.” They squint at that. “Didn’t you say you weren’t, hungry? Like five minutes ago?” Caught in a lie, and by his own words too. Yet he still brushes it off with a huff. “Yeah well, I’m hungry now ‘cause I know there’s gonna be food soon.” More like he just never pays any attention to what his body needs, but close enough._ _

__Laivan decides to just leave the issue be for now. They care for Murrit deeply, they really do; but fuck if he isn’t one of the most stubborn people they know. Pushing too much at once is never too good with him, and considering he just got out of a panic attack a few hours ago, it’s probably an especially bad idea to push right now. They’ll just focus on the topic at hand for now. “Well it’ll be uh… about a half hour, so you’ll have to wait a bit.”_ _

__For someone who’s great at playing the long game with important things, when it comes to the small stuff, Murrit has all the patience of a damn tornado. Something proved once again when he sighs, long and loud. “Damn, that’s so fuckin’ loooooong.” He drags out the word like his life depends on it. “Worth it for pizza though. That’s the good shit.”_ _

__“I have a feeling you’d, eat it every day if you could.” He absolutely would and he is fully aware of that. “Damn right I would. Man why does money like, exist so much all the time, why can’t pizza be free?”_ _

__“Capitalism.” Laivan says this in the most deadpan tone possible._ _

__“Well we should get rid of capitalism then. I want my free fuckin’ pizza, my life’d be completely. I could die a happy slut.”_ _

__“... Murrit.” Their tone in saying his name, serious and stern and a bit worried, immediately tells him he fucked up a little. “Would you, like. Really not mind dying because, of something so small, or…?”_ _

__God dammit, he made them worry over nothing. He can’t exactly blame them for it. His mental health has, never been not terrible if he’s being honest, and almost three years of therapy still hasn’t changed that much. But he’s not in that bad of a place. He’s content being alive, even if life sucks ass sometimes._ _

__“Geez, ya don’ have ta worry that much Laiv, I’m fine. I’m just joking. Would be funny as fuck if I died ‘cause of free pizza, but still. Ain’t too keen on dyin’ for a long time. Just makin’ a lil joke.” Laivan frowns, not really satisfied with that answer. “Well that’s good, but you really shouldn’t joke, about dying. It’s probably not very, good for-“_ _

__“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore Laivan.” And just like that, Murrit cuts them off before they can finish. He really doesn’t want to talk about this right now. The state of his mental health is just fine for the moment, they don’t need to worry. This is, of course, a blatant lie, and he’s starting to feel panic slowly creeping back in again, but they don’t need to know that._ _

__Putting worries aside and defusing the situation is probably the best option right now. Picking arguments won’t help right now. “... Sorry I got upset over, a joke.”_ _

__“... It’s okay. Sorry I, uh. Said something that made you upset. Like that. Didn’t wanna make you worry.” Swallowing his pride and apologizing is hard, but it’s worth it to avoid argument number two of the day. “You uh, good? Didn’t upset you too much?”_ _

__They shake their head. “Didn’t upset me too much. Just got worried. But I’m good. … Are you?”_ _

__He shrugs. “’M okay. Don’ have ta worry about me.” The panic is still there, not that he’d tell them that, but it’s easing up now, ever so slightly. He holds them a little tighter, seeking some sort of comfort, yet too anxious to actually say anything right now._ _

__They pick up on his anxiety, knowing his cues at this point, and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze. “... Sorry I, got so upset over a joke. I just worry about you, a lot.”_ _

__Murrit sighs, fully aware of how much they worry about him. “I know. … Hate t’ say it, but. Ya really do got a lot to worry about me over, huh?” It’s true and he can’t deny it. There’s a lot of shit wrong with him, always has been. It’s all just slowly gotten worse over time, and the fact he refuses to tell his therapist anything beyond the minimum isn’t helping._ _

__“Yeah, there really is… It’s gonna be okay though, okay? I can, help you call your therapist, later, if you want. That might help. See if you can get an, early appointment set up?”_ _

__Murrit wonders what he would do without Laivan. Suffer a lot more probably. “Yeah, yeah that, sounds like a good idea. ‘Specially considerin’ uh, y’know. Stuff that happened, earlier.” Arguing with Dismas. Then having a severe enough panic attack to overwhelm himself. And ending up temporarily nonverbal._ _

__It finally occurs to him how bad all of that is. A fight with a quadmate, even a bad one, should not cause a severe panic attack, let alone him essentially… shutting down on himself, or whatever the term is. He can’t remember that piece of information right now, but whatever, the point still stands. It’s really bad._ _

__Laivan awkwardly clears their throat, drawing his attention back to them. “Have uh. Have you guys thought about, like. Talking to someone…? A professional I mean. Like a, relationship counselor…?”_ _

__“We’ve… never talked about that actually. Do ya really think we should? Can’t we just, work shit out by ourselves like always?”_ _

__“You treat each other like, shit Murrit.” Laivan is not having this right now. “Mostly you do that, to him, but he doesn’t always, do good either. You fight, a lot. You yell all the time, even when you’re in red. You get mad at, each other, then feel guilty when you, realize what you did wrong. I get you two care, about each other, but you need a damn, counselor.”_ _

__Murrit can’t deny a single word out of any of that. They really do have problems, always have. Mostly on his end. They care about each other a lot, but then they always fight, and it’s fucked up._ _

__“... I guess you’re right. We really should do, that. … Can we talk about this later? I don’t feel like talkin’ about this right now.” They nod, understanding that this is probably a lot for him. “Of course. Let’s just, try to relax for now. Sound good?”_ _

__There’s so much for him to process right now. A lot has happened in the last few minutes, and even more in the last few hours. But that’s for the future. For now, he might as well just take a break, relax, and spend some time with his moirail._ _

__He smiles, even though they can’t see his face. “Yeah, sounds good.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, ending on a cliffhanger of sorts? More likely than you think. >:3c
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any comments, questions, or feedback! I love that stuff!


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